


China

by sloganeer



Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, tell me that you love me more [11]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anniversary, Breakfast, Domestic Bliss, Future Fic, Husbands, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 22:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: David ate a strawberry and contemplated the box. It wasn’t big enough to hold a dinner set, but perhaps a teapot. A teapot would be a better gift for Patrick, though. He still used an ugly brown betty that they brought home after Grandma Brewer’s funeral, and it just refused to break (not that David had tried).-This is year 20.





	China

The box was on the dining table when David came back from walking the dog. The dog was Patrick’s idea because as soon as David had turned 50, his husband became obsessed with exercise—and not his own. The deal was they would also get a cat for lazy cuddling on the couch. It all worked out nicely because both of their pets loved David and hated Patrick.

With a hand on top of the box wrapped in the white embossed paper they sold at the store, David raised an eyebrow at his husband, who was wearing his home office business casual uniform of chinos and a henley, who shrugged, then handed David his coffee and kissed his cheek.

“If you bought new dishes without consulting me,” David told him, “just to keep up with this archaic tradition, I’m divorcing you.”

“David, you wouldn’t know how to divorce me if you wanted to.”

“Would to.” He pulled out a chair. The dog sat at his feet; the cat had found its way into the kitchen and jumped up into his lap. “I hired a lawyer when I was 14 to sue my drama teacher for casting me as Motel in Fiddler.”

“OK,” Patrick conceded. He put David’s toasted bialy and fruit salad on the table. “But our lawyer likes me better.”

“Our lawyer hit on you at our 15th anniversary party.”

Patrick rubbed his fingers through David’s beard and tilted his head back for a kiss from above. “I’m not going to tell you again that she didn’t because you already know.” He collected his oatmeal with cinnamon apple butter from the counter, then joined David to eat.

“We’re not doing anything today, are we?”

With his spoon, Patrick pointed to the box between them. “You could open the present I wrapped for you.”

“You promise it’s not a new set of china?”

“Promise.”

David ate a strawberry and contemplated the box. It wasn’t big enough to hold a dinner set anyway, but perhaps a teapot. A teapot would be a better gift for Patrick, though. He still used an ugly brown betty that they brought home after Grandma Brewer’s funeral, and it just refused to break (not that David had tried).

“Your present’s upstairs,” David said.

Patrick said, “I know,” with his mouth full. 

“You don’t want to go get it?”

“No rush.”

David wanted him to go get it because David didn’t want to get up. The animals weren’t going anywhere soon, and there was more coffee to drink. But it was a really good present. He was quite proud, actually, how he’d managed to purchase it without setting off any of Patrick's banking alarms.

“It’s a box at Rogers Centre,” he blurted.

Patrick’s face lit up. “You bought me a box?” 

“Not forever! Just for a day, a game. They said it was a double-header? You can invite all your boys, though I’m definitely coming for the food.”

Then Patrick was up out of his seat and hauling David up into a kiss, causing the cat to run away squawking. 

“The ticket thingy they mailed me is in my journal in the bedside stand.”

“I’m excited,” Patrick told him. He leaned in to press their lips together again, soft and wet touches without the need for anything more right now. David tasted cinnamon on Patrick’s tongue, adding spice to the fruit salad he was still eating.

“Now you.” Patrick stepped back, pushed the box towards David, and they both sat down again. “It’s not a private box to see the VH1 Divas, but I hope you still like it.”

Once his breakfast was out of the way, David reached out to drag the box closer. It wasn’t heavy. The corners were lumpy and wrinkled because his husband had better taste now, but still hadn’t learned how to properly wrap a present. The thing inside was covered in layers and layers of dark blue tissue paper. 

It was smaller than David had thought it would be. Patrick was being sneaky, and the grin he was wearing as he watched David said they both knew what the other was thinking. One piece of the paper fell to the floor with the breeze coming through the open window, and David heard the dog playing with it, making sounds.

“Charlotte made it,” Patrick explained as David turned the ceramic mug around in his hands. “I just decorated it.”

It was obviously a mug because it had a handle. But it was the size of the bowl Patrick was using for his oatmeal. It was round and fit nicely into the curve of David’s hand. The glaze was mostly white, a thin coat that showed the texture of the clay and the lines of the rose his husband had carved in the side. It was a giant mug for David to drink all the coffee in the world. 

“Now I don’t have to keep getting up to pour your refills,” Patrick said. He was smiling when David looked up, and then he was eating his oatmeal again, glancing out at the birds making a racket in their orchard. The dog returned to sit on David’s feet.

On the bottom of the mug, Charlotte’s familiar crown logo was carved next to another, a simple P. Or maybe it was a heart. David traced the lines with his thumb to be sure.


End file.
